


How to Get a Restful Sleep

by Tsuaea



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies 1989-1997), Batman - All Media Types, Batman the Animated Series
Genre: Coping, Dealing with It, Depression, Gen, Parental Death, Short One Shot, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic, Young Bruce Wayne, healthy coping mechanism, teenage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 14:58:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3854956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsuaea/pseuds/Tsuaea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One Shot: Alone in his room night terrors awaken a teenage Bruce Wayne and thoughts of his parents flutter through his thoughts. In what ways does he cope with such a traumatic experience?</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Get a Restful Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Author Note: Hello all, boy, I haven’t written anything in years, so tell me what you think, huh? I’m sorry…life has a way of getting away from us doesn’t it? Anyways, I wrote this as a way to get myself out of a writers block, and doing something for the Batman fandom has been on my mind. I hope you like it!

 

_Mother, Father…mom, dad. Where are you? I need you.  It’s so lonely. What do I do?? What is my purpose?_

Bruce Wayne, now the 25 year old billionaire playboy some would gossip sat straight up in his bed in a cold sweat, having suffered a severe nightmare he looked around.  With breath heavy, and the sweat thick on his brow that  he wiped away, he sighed.  He sighed deeply as if to release all the tension in his body from the nightmare but it wasn’t enough. He sat still on his now damp Egyptian expensive cotton sheets contemplating. Feelings of overwhelming sorrow and loneliness washed over him. His widened eyes now halfway closed with despair.  Despair? Loneliness? Self-Worth? All these things came to his mind as his thoughts raced.  All of a sudden he thought about his parent’s death, the look on their faces, the blood splattered on his clothing, his hands covered in their blood from trying to shake their lifeless body to awaken, blood matted into the roots of his hair, he had saw the whole thing. He remembered. He would always remember. It would always be etched into his very being until the day that he would cease to exist in this world.  All of these things crossed his thoughts.  He put his hand to his mouth to stifle his sudden saddened whimper.

 “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry….I couldn’t do anything. I am worthless”, he uttered quietly in the darkness of his bedroom. Hot tears stained his face, his hands, his bare chest that was heaving in an out. He cried, holding his mouth tight to not let any sound of his whimper seep through the air. With all his strength he held, and suddenly his whole body shook, his body wracked with bad memories was all of a sudden trying to be set free. He clamped his hand firmly on his mouth, convulsing on his bed, trying to hold the emotions back. He rocked forward and backward a habit he had developed in his younger years to try to cope with sudden emotional outbursts.  As he rocked, tears continued to stream down his face. His nose runny, his face reddened and his head pounding from the pressure of the now hour long tear session he was having. The bed seemed to whisper in the darkness of his large room and  gave away his coping habit.

_Creak…creak….creak…whimper…._ it slipped through. An hour and a single whimper passed the barrier he had held up for an hour. He sniffled and let his hands settle to both sides of his body. He looked around and then looked up at the ceiling hoping these feelings would finally come to an end so he could get a little more sleep for the rest of the night but when he looked up more tears began to spill forth and that’s when _it_ burst through his body. The thing he had been holding in for years. A couple more small whimpers turned into bigger ones that turned into full blown sobs. “Why am I here? Why didn’t I go with you??”, he yelled. He slammed his fist onto his pillows his whole body wracked in the sadness that he held in for so long. “Please, I don’t want to feel like this anymore…” he mumbled between sobs and sniffles. He continued his rocking back and forth. This had gone on for what was now 3 hours. After the third hour he stopped rocking and slid his legs over his bed to touch the floor. His head was pounding. He hadn’t cried since the night of his parent’s murder ever so long ago. 

This, this was needed. It was cleansing, he felt a little relief. Bruce went to the bathroom attached to his bedroom and looked in the mirror, his youthful blue eyes where soggy red and tear streaked. He inhaled big and exhaled equally as big.  Splashing his face and then drying he padded back into the bedroom and slid into his dampened tear soaked blankets and closed his eyes. The rest of the night’s sleep, he was looking forward to.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!! I hope this wasn’t too hard to read. I always wonder if Bruce has his own mini cry sessions from time to time to let out his emotions about his parents. That is a traumatic experience for anyone right, little bit of crying sometimes helps. *sighs* I hope you all have a good day. Review if you like. Laters!


End file.
